Its lock was still carved with the old Northern Court crest. She should probably request a new one. She pulled up short at that thought. The lock she imagined was Renwick’s new crest: the sword through the crown. She had not imagined The High Mountain crest of the crown over mountains. Her hands shook again as she felt the echoes of that kiss on her lips. She still smelt the snowy evergreen scent in her hair. It frightened her and excited her all at once—she would rather belong to the new Northern Court than to the High Mountain one.
